“Tom Lee, her last beau. Why, my goodness! he used to be here day and night,
Till the folks thought he’d be her husband; and Jack says that gave him a fright;
You won’t run away then, as he did? for you’re not a rich man, they say.
Pa says you’re poor as a church-mouse. Now, are you? and how poor are they?
“Ain’t you glad that you met me? Well, I am; for I know now your hair isn’t red;
But what there is left of it’s mousy, and not what that naughty Jack said.
But there! I must go; sister’s coming! But I wish I could wait, just to see
If she ran up to you, and she kissed you in the way she used to kiss Lee.”
Bret Harte.
